Protect and Preserve Coney Island!

As I look out the window from my kitchen table, I have a clear view of Coney Island—the aquarium and Luna Park in the foreground with the beach behind them, calm and captivating. During these winter months, my neighborhood looks nothing like what most people would imagine: there is none of that sweltering heat; no cacophony of laughter and scattered screams from the rides; no smell of salt in the air; and no overpriced concession stands. Rather, it is cold and barren—still beautiful but in a different way that perhaps isn’t easily recognizable to the untrained eye. However, I have always been skilled at seeing what isn’t there. Gray skies and empty streets have never deterred me from gazing upon Coney Island with a certain admiration and anticipation for the future. Yet, lately, I seem to have lost that spark of imagination.

When I look at Coney Island now, much of that anticipation has turned to worry. Thor Equities, a real estate development company, has proposed a plan called “The Coney,” which seeks to “revitalize Coney [Island]” by destroying almost half of the existing rides in order to build a casino, hotel, and convention center on the land. The consequences of this development project would be drastic, especially for the people who live and work near Coney Island. 

For decades, Coney Island has existed as both a center of amusement and entertainment and as a strong, inclusive community. In the late 19th century, it became one of the most famous travel destinations; as it developed, amusement parks like Luna Park, Dreamland, and Steeplechase Park brought in thousands of visitors. From elaborate shows, carnivals, and performances to rides, attractions, and the beach, Coney Island has always had the ability to bring people from different backgrounds together. Pre-established societal boundaries between sexes, races, and classes are temporarily cast aside as people gather together to enjoy shared experiences. 

As part of the Coney Island History Project, the Oral History Archive includes recorded testimonies from real people who lived in or visited Coney Island in the past. For example, Joseph Svehlak details his mother’s experience visiting Coney Island in the early 1900s. Similarly, many other New Yorkers, no matter their gender, ethnicity, or economic status, used to go from Manhattan or farther and devote entire days with their families to affordable and accessible Coney Island fun. Much has changed since the 20th century, but current Coney Island traditions like the annual Mermaid Parade—in which participants dress as sea creatures with elaborate and often handmade costumes—demonstrate the boldness and creativity that has always defined this neighborhood.

Though the developers say that “The Coney” aims to “renew a beloved neighborhood and strengthen the community,” the proposed plan would have the opposite effect. On a fundamental level, traffic, noise, and pollution would all increase, directly affecting the families and individuals nearby. Local businesses would be forced to close down to accommodate the convention’s economic demands—including the sudden rise of casino-centered job availability and the influx of tourists—and many local employees would lose their jobs. It would greatly upset me to lose the beautiful view outside my window, but losing the people within my community would be infinitely worse. When I think about the deli I frequent across from Surf Avenue, with its seemingly endless supply of one dollar Arizona cans, or the discount store where I once lost (and retrieved, thanks to the kind employees!) my favorite bag, I am forced to confront the potential existence of a Coney Island where these people and places struggle to make ends meet and are forced to succumb to a corporation of outsiders who seek profits through extorting a community they are wholly unfamiliar with on any personal level. I wonder, too, how my neighbors would be affected—the strangers with whom I exchange smiles in the lobby or those who hold the elevator door for me each day. I cannot possibly access or imagine the details of each of their lives, but I understand that we are all connected; all of us have ties to Coney Island, whether it be memories of the boardwalk, the carnival shows, or any of the numerous rides Thor Equities plans to destroy. Within the aftermath of Coney Island’s destruction lies an undeniable loss of history, childhood memories, and shared experiences.

Furthermore, by siphoning off economic opportunities, Thor Equities would not “revitalize” Coney Island but make it solely dependent on what Thor Equities provides, establishing a cycle in which the owners and developers continuously prevail, and the residents, as well as the tourists and consumers, suffer. It is odd to witness such a promotion of gambling when years of research have exposed the tolls that gambling addictions impose on people’s lives, health, relationships, and finances. A casino has no place in any neighborhood, let alone Coney Island.

When we examine how other cities are affected by the opening of casinos, we can see some of the true risks they pose. In 1978, Atlantic City in New Jersey opened its first casino, Resorts International. A New York Times article published a few years later records the accounts of the city’s residents in response to the impact of the casino. For example, the former president of the NAACP Atlantic City branch states, “We see the rich and the casinos thriving on one side of town and the poor and minorities suffering on the other side of town.” He adds, “There has been no emphasis on people. All emphasis has been on relaxing rules so the casinos can make more money.” An imbalance immediately becomes apparent. A line is drawn through the neighborhood, and the casino becomes the center of attention, entertainment, and funding. Residents are pushed to the outskirts, both literally and figuratively, and aspirational claims like those of “The Coney,” which promise thousands of new jobs for local residents and a major economic boost, fall flat. Former Atlantic City Congress of Community Organizations Housing Chairman Cora Boggs describes, “People from the outside have come in and gotten the jobs. Our sewage and electric bills have gone up to help pay for the new sewage and electric needs of the casino hotels.” Housing conditions deteriorated as rent went up and residential areas were cleared out for further development. The people who were already most financially disadvantaged were driven further into poverty by being forced to pay for the casino’s presence, even as it was actively harming them. Locals were pushed out to make space for tourists who were more than willing to blow their money away at the casino, even as it inevitably hurt both themselves and the Atlantic City inhabitants. In the end, the only real winners were, and continue to be, the casino owners.

The hope remains that if enough people demonstrate opposition to the plans for “The Coney,” Thor Equities may be forced to abandon its objectives. Brooklyn Community Board 13, which encompasses Coney Island, has held various meetings on the developers’ applications for a casino license and demapping permissions. On January 22, the board took a final vote of 24 to 11 against the street demapping proposal, which would have allowed development on Coney Island streets. While this is a good first step, it’s only the beginning of the fight to protect Coney Island. The application must still be reviewed by Brooklyn’s Borough President Antonio Reynoso, the City Planning Commission, and the City Council, which will take the opinion of the community board into consideration but is not required to vote in accordance. 

On March 10, 2025, Reynoso held a public hearing before making an official decision. As the proposals advance through the necessary steps, community expression of disapproval has been, and will continue to be, instrumental. By attending the community board meetings, forums, and public hearings, as well as signing the petition, we can all make ourselves heard. By speaking out to our elected officials, we prevent the destruction of Coney Island and the surrounding community.

As a Coney Island resident, I am especially passionate about this. From reasons as small as protecting the view outside my window to those as large and all-encompassing as preserving the spirit of my community, I am firmly against what Thor Equities has proposed. However, although the circumstances of my situation may be unique, our communities continue to be under attack no matter where we are. Any resident of any neighborhood has the potential to create both local and global change, especially when their efforts are in conjunction with others. We are all responsible for taking care of the spaces we inhabit. Are you doing your part?